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GEANNY’S BAIBN. APathetic Story of a Strike. It was a desolate scene as I wandered among the pitfalls and abandoned workings of the Beaver Meadow Coal Mines. In a hol- low of on old and useless strip ing layytons of slaty waste, among which g earned its of coal here and there. The mineral had long ne its way to the market and only the re- use remained; but even these bits the poor about the district were forbidden by the owners to glean. The Winter had been a severe one and the coal strike for a few pence more a day had an ented the sufferings of the poor, not 0 y in and about the great city, but extend- in out to the coal regions as well. e place looked deserted ‘and dreary enough, but I walked on, musmg over the fate which doomed the generality of men to toil and poverty, when suddenly the figure of a child arose from one of the heaps and stood before me, trembling in every limb and a piteous, scared expression upon his wan, pinched little face. “Don’t be alarmed,” I said, touched by his evident fear; “I wouldn’t harm you.” “Ben’t you come to take me for pickin’ up the coal?" he inquired, falteringly; “didn’t the maisters send ye?” At his feet I now spied a pail half full of the recious stuff. “ Ve hain’t not no fire,” he said, pins the pail with 'his little blue, ha f-frozen fingers, “ and poor granny has been shiverin’ and moanin’ and huggin’ the baby awful close, air. She thinks that keeps it warm, you know. ” A was smile flitted over his face as he said it, but something in his tone brought a lump to my throat. “ And what is your name ‘2” I next in- -quired. “ Jemmy, sir.” “ And your fatherâ€"where is he ‘2” “‘ I dunno,” answered the boy. “ Dead ‘.’” I queried. “‘ Mcbbe, I dunno.” '“ And you mother?” His'little lip quivered. “Mother went to work afore daylight, sir. She gncs out a-washin’ and scrubbin’ when she can git it. \Vn’ll have some supper when she gits homeâ€"granny and me will, and I’ll have u. fire, ’cause you know mother- ’11 be awful cold and tirct .” “ \Vell," I said, struggling with my emo- tion, “ let us: fill the pail and I will carry it." It was soon done and before lon we stood upon the threshold of a. miserab e shanty which the boy called “home.” He hesitated a moment before opening the door. “You ben’t one of the maisters now, be ye?” he asked solemnly. “God forbid,” I answered as seriously. “ And ye ain’t come to turn us out o’ the cabin ‘3" “ Never fear,” I smiled : “ I come as a friend, not as an enemy." For answer he opened the door. Home! A carpetless floor, a bed, a chair or two, a tireless stove. COWering close to the latter sat an old woman, crooning to a baby which she held in her arms, swathed in rags. “Be still, my bairn,” she murmured, startled by the opening of the door; “he stillâ€"the maisters shall nae touch ye, never fear.” Oh! those hollow cheeks. those trembling hands, those struggling locks, that bent, shivering form. She gazed at me curiously at first with a vacant. dazed stare; then a shudder shook her frame. '“Be ye one o’ the iiiaisters‘f” she inquired in a husky voice. “No,” I replied smiling: “no.” “I maun a-knowed it," she said witha. nod; “the dell ne’er comes n-smilin,’ and â€"~and â€"” here her voice fell to a whisperâ€"“the maisters are all sold to the de’ilâ€"did ye know that?" I made no answer, and she continued her crooning to the babe in hemrms. “Hush, my bairn," she said to the motion- less figure ; “hush, thy father’s a coomin’â€"a coomin' home the day. Has‘t seen him?" she cried, suddenly turning to me; "has't seen my Sandy“! My puir boy Sandyâ€"did be send '0?” The ho? looked at me with a wistful, touching expression. . "Sandy’s my father,” he exclaimed, “who went away long ago.” At this juncture the door opened and a woman about thirty years of age entered. with every appearance of weariness and heart-sickness in her form and face. For the first time the boy's eyes lightened. “Mother,” he said, “the gentleman fetched home a whole pailful of coalâ€"see !" and the little fellow spread his hands over the newly kindled fire with a look of pride and satisfaction. "flush!" whispered granny: “the bairn sleeps. \Vuke her not up to misery again. it were a blossin’, when hunger cooins and cold. for us all to sleep.” “The child must be cold," I said to the younger woman. “It’s clothing seems poor and thin." She smiled strangely and placed her finger upon her lip. “'l’aint no real baby," whispered the boy: "‘It's only a stick 0' wood the granny calls the bairn." I looked at the boy's mother inquiringly. “Yes,” said she, “the bairn died the morning poor Sandy was taken away. (irannvuvcnt crazed, as you see, which was a moi-cw. sir, scoin’ as how she loved the bairn and Sandy better than life." The old woman had returned to her chair, and cheered by the warmth, was sinkiugin- r) a gentle doze. _ “Sandy 1"sbe munuured. “Sandy's coom- in‘ home the day. The lmirn will use muir cry from hunger, for the father is coomin‘ home." "(If what dark day do you speak ’." I inquired, “and who took your husband away 3" _ The boy shuddcrcd and crept close to his mother's side. She hesitated. “Here, Jemmy," I hastened tosay, “take this money and go to the nearest shop. Your mother will tell you what to buy." lie was gone, but ueverthelea, I. was haunted by those solemn. pleading, wxstful evesâ€"~eves in which the glad light of happ childhoixl had never lurked: eyes whi looked out upon life shadowed by the wing of poverty and hopeless misery. _ “ You may remember, sir," begin his mother. “the great strike of the miners In this region. in the year 188". Sandya my husband, was agin it. air. from the first. \\'cll. sir," she continued. “the men had been idle for months, but still they clung to‘ l I l l the ho that by holdin’ out their future would bettered. It was bitter cold and Sandy had gone out to get the trust of a il of coal. He was very white sir. when E: came back and there was that in his eyes which made me shudder." ” ‘Why, Saudy,‘ I cried, ‘my man,why do you look so? “For answer he pointed to the empty ' “ ‘They would gie me nane,’says he, s ow- like and husky ; ‘ they will use trust us more.’ “ ‘They mean to turn us out of the house w-morrow,’ he answered, bitterly. ‘New men, my lass, are coomin’ to take our places at lower wages the day.’ “ ‘But the bairn, our sick bairn 2’ I cried. ‘She has been c in’ for a sup of broth since earl mornin’. She is dyin’, Sandyâ€"«lyin’ for the ack of nourishment. “Sandy groaned. He was a big, brawny man, sir, wtllin’ to work, and he well-nigh worshiped the little one which lay there moanin’ and cryin’ for the broth which he couldn’t give her. “ ‘Ye maun get a chicken, Sandy,’ cried granny; ‘try it, man. The darlin’ is starvin’ ; can ye no see 2’ “ ‘A chicken 2’ cried Sandy, with a bitter laugh. ‘Ye mean as well ask me for the keys of heaven, granny. They would nae gie me the trust of a pail of coal the morn. A chicken ! They would call me mad an’ I should ask for itâ€"mad !’ “W'ell, sir,” continued the woman after a painful pause, “the next day was cold and raw. A fine, drizzling rain set in, which froze as it fell. The little one was worse. She lay quite still now and moaned no more. “ ‘They will not turn us out in this storm, Sandy, with a sick bairn,’ I said ; ‘they can never be so cruel as that.’ “ ‘The new men must have homes,’ he an- swered, despairing like. “Just then came a knock at the door. Granny looked out the window, then turned with white face and set lips and grasped Sandy by the arm. “ ‘Be a mon,’ she said, in alow,decp voice “be 3. mon, Sandy, and (linna let them turn us out this awfu’ day. Think 0’ your dyin’ bairn and be a mon.’ “Sandy shock in every limb, but answered not a word. There was a louder rap now at the door. Granny wrung her hands in agony, for just then from the bed came a. low moan.’ “ ‘Broth !’ cried the bnirn ; “ ‘granny ; broth !’ “ ‘Open the door Sandy,’ said granny ; “ ‘open the door ;’ and taking the little one in her arms, she stood like a figure turned to stone in the middle of the floor. “J emmy, hardly more than a baby, clung weeping to my skirts, as I knelt in prayer by t 1e fireless stove, asking aid from One greater and richer than the owners of the coal mines. “There was silence for a moment when the door was opened, then one of the men laughed. . “ ‘Come,’ he said, “ ‘make ready to be out of this by noon. You had your orders yester- day, Sandy, and we mean to'enforce ’em’. “ ‘But the helm is near to dying,’ answer- ed Sandy, choking like, ‘Tand sure ye will not turn us out in the storm ‘3’ “ ‘Well if the brat be near dying,’ said an officer, brutally, ‘ she may as well die outside as in.’ “ ‘Then,’ continued the woman, shieldin her eyes with one hand, ‘I heard a grow like as from a wild beast, then a cry as of mortal agony, and thenâ€"’ Her voice broke and she half arose from her chair and looked with a fixed stony gaze straight before her. “And then, Iqueried, after a paintulpause. “And then, she resumed, with white lips, “the man who had uttered that cruel speech flung up his arms, swayed to and fro and fell at Sandy’s feet without life or motion. Then the rest sprang upon Sandy, who stood there dazed and horror-stricken, white as the dead man at his feet. “ ‘ I did nae mean to kill him,’ he said, solemnly, with uplifted hand : ‘ God above knows I (lid nae mean to kill him. But the helm is the light 0’ my eyes, and if any of ye be fathers, ye maun know howâ€"how~â€"â€"’ “ He could say no more, sir, for the tears which choked him ; tears wrung from his great noble heartâ€"a heart as tender as a woman’s. “ ‘Comc,’ said the dead man’s friends, sav- agely, ‘ come. “’e don’t want any more of your whining. You’ll get a halter for this day’s work, never fear.’ “ ‘ A halter 3” exclaimed granny, dazed likeâ€"‘a halter for my Sandy l” “ Then she looked at the dead man’s face and laughed. such a horrid laugh, sir, that it curdled the blood in our veins. “ The child no longer moaned, but lay quiet within her arms. Sandy shook off the hands which held him and stoopedto kiss the bairn. “ ‘ She's dead,’ he said quietly ; ‘ my Jenny, our pretty bairn is dead ; and, with- out another word turned and went out of the door, never to enter it again.” “ Surely,” I stammercd, “ he was not, notâ€"” I could not bring myself to utter the hor- rible word. “ No, sir," said she, quietly ; but he was sent to prison for life.” “ And you and the boy and granny,” I in- quiredâ€"~“what did you do '3" “The neighbors helped us to move here,” she said. wcurily, “and hel ed to bury the child. Granny’s reason flei that dreadful day and, as you see, she still nurses the bairn and ever in her ear rings that mournful cry, ‘ Broth ! granny, broth 2’ " The dooropcncd suddenly at this juncture and in sprang Jemmy. with a look upon his face that brought us both to our feet. “He's come !” he gasped; “he's come ! Granny was nae mad when she said he'd come the day." “\Vho?" cried his mother. a wild hope gleaming in her eye. “Quick, Jemmy, tell me. Who has come 2’" “My boy. Sandy," crooned gmnny,aronsed by the confusion ; “it's my Sandy come back with the broth for the bnirn." “Ay, mither." cried a rough, manly voice at the door, “God be thanked, 'tis thy boy Sandy come back indeed 1" The wife stood like one turned to stone. . “l-Iscaped 3" she gas *d, with a shudder. ashcrhusband held out is arms; "escaped?" “Nae. my lass," he cried: “never fear, 'tis not moaped I am, but pardoned, Jennyâ€" pardoned." That meeting was too sacred for a stran- gers‘s eye to witness, and so I silently stole away and left them : the strong man shaken with emotion. wife and child sobbing upon his breast and granny, with her "bairu" tenderly clasped in her arms, smiling upon the groupinplacid, su'eet content. . his pencil failed him. \\'lien.the ball was INDIAN BALL GAMES. The Choctawa Were the Championsâ€"A Hum-r Game by Sioux Squaws. The greatest ball players among the North Amerimn Indians were the Choctaws. The rule of the game as regarded” dress was very strict. No player was allowed to wear moccasins. There was no such thin as “spiking"another player unless the ion was done by some fellow with extraordinary long and strong toe nails. The only cloth- ing was the breech cloth around the loins and a bead belt. A tail of white horse hair or quills projected behind like a steer- ing apparatus. A collar or mane of horse hair was wom around the neck. The game embraced the skilful features of lawn tennis and the brute force of football. Catlin says that after seein two or three games of Indian ball he mugs it a rule never to miss one. He would ride thirty miles any day for the sport. The game was usually called about 9 o'clock in the morning, and from that time till sundown the contest was a series of exciting and ludicrous scenes without any intermission. It was nothing unusual for from 600 to 1,000 Choctaw youths to en ge in a game. 'lhvo leaders were se~ lecte , and they chose alternately until there were from 300 to 500 on each side. Several old men of the tribe acted as judges. They measured ofi‘ the ground and set up the goals. For each goal two posts about 25 feet high were FIRMLY I‘LANTED IN THE GROUND six feet apart. Across the tops of the up- right posts was fastened a horizontal ole. These goals were fifty rods apart. Mi way between them was a small stake. From this point the ball, at a given signal, was tossed in the air by one of the judges. And then the game began. There were some curious preliminaries. When the judges had set the goals they drew a line from one goal to the other. To this line the old men, the boys, and the women of the tribe came and bet across it whatever they wanted to stake on the result. Any- thing which had value was included in the betting. Knives, dresses, blankets, dogs, horses, and a hundred other possessions were delivered across the line to be wag- ered on one side or the other. The stake- holders receive the stakes collected at a little distance from the ball ground, and kept guard over them until the end. The laying out of the ground and the bet- ting was all arranged the afternoon before the nine. \Vheu night came on the ground wasTighted by torches and the ball-play dance was given. The players crowded around their respective goals, held up their sticks and rattled them together. The women formed in two rows between the goals, according to’the side they were betting on, and danced while they sang to the Great Spirit in favor of their re- spective interests. At a. little distance on one side the four judges, who were to have the tossing of the ball, and who were to de- cide the result, sat and SMOKED AND PBAYED to the Great Spirit that they mi ht be able to judge impartially and escape ing mob} bed by the losers. This dance was ivcn at intervals of half an hour all night. T‘Iobody thought of going to bed. The game opened at 9 o’clock in the pre- sence of the whole tribe. A gun was fired. The ball was tossed up. In an instant the hundreds of players were in motion. Each player had two sticks with hooped ends. Thongs were stretched across the hoops so that the ball could not slip through. The game was to catch the ball between the net- ted cnds of the two sticks and throw it to- ward the goal. then the ball passed through the space between the high posts and below the cross pole the side to which that goal belonged scored a point. There were no such things as fouls in the Choctaw ball game. Players jumped over each other’s heads. They crawled between each other’s legs. They tripped and kicked and scuffed. For many minutes the confused mass would be pushing and crowding toward a common point, and not a rlimpse of the ball could be had. Then the 1ball would he slipped outside of the crowd, which would keep on struggling and crowding without discovering that the ball was gone. Clouds of dust arose. Every player made all the noise be possibly could. Occasionally T\VO BITTER PA RTISANS dropped out of the melee and began to settle a misunderstanding with their fists. That was all right. But perhaps before half a. dozen blows had been exchanged the for-- tune of the game sent the crowd down upon the scene of fisticufi's, and in an instant the fighters were swallowed up in the wild stam- pede. One inviolable rule of the game was that all weapons must beleft in the camp. No player, however angry he might become, was allowed to leave the ground to get a weapon. All difficulties must be settled on the spot restriction on fighting, and before the game was over bloody noses and bruised shins were numerous. The two bodies of players were distin- guished by those on one side painting them- selves white with clay. “'hen the ball was driven through a goal there was a brief rest for a minute. Then the ball was tossed again from the centre stake, and the wild struggle was re ated. When one side had driven the bad through its goal 100 times the game was won. Usually the sides were so well matched that the contest was not decided until sundown. Catlin says he often sat on his horse for eight or ten hours at a stretch watchiu these exciting contests. But he confessc that when he tried to reproduce THE SPIRIT OF Till-2 SCENES “u )"-â€"â€"that is, flying through the airâ€"every- bm y was running and reaching for it. But when it was “down"â€"that is, on the ground -the players flung themselves together, each side pushing and crowding toward its own goal. The 100 points having been scored by one side or the other, there was a general distribution of whiskey, and then the stakes were awarded. The games were not played without much ructice and preparation. Choosing of si es liegan several weeks before the day 'set or the game. As the leaders chose their players they sent runners through the village. The runners carried ball sticks decorated with ribbons. The player si ified his acceptance by touching the stick 0 the champion who had chosen him, and from that time on he was enga'ed for the game. This gave the rest of the tribe plenty of time to decide which side they would bet on It also gave - the leaders time to train their followers for {the grand event. and with the fists. But this was the only P The Sioux had a favorite ball game. The women played it. When the warriors were full of whiskey and wanted something to make them laugh they arranged a tourna- ment for the women. Usually the game took place when the Sioux were flush With received in their annual bargains wi the fur traders. Calicoes, ribbons, and other things dear to the feminine mind, tutored or untutored, were hun on a pole which rested on crotched sticks. hese were the prizes. Two balls Were tied to ether b a string a foot and a half long. ’ith a s ort stick the player was expected to sto the balls by the string and throw them. The players were divided into two parties, and the aim of each side was to throw the two balls over its own goal. The women crowded and scuttled and tumbled over each other, while the warriors rolledu n the ground and laughed until their si esached. Our Two Opinions. Us two wuz boys when we fell out, Nigh to the age uv my youngest now : Don’t rec’lect what ’tw about, Some small diff'rence ’ll allow. Lived next neighbors twenty 'ears, A-hatin’ each other, me ’nd im ! He havin’ his opinion uv me, ’Nd I havin’ my opinyin uv him ! Grew up together ’nd wouldn’t speak, Courted sisters, ’nd marr’d ’em, too; Teuded same meetin’ house oncet a week, A-hatin’ each other, through and through ! But when Abe Linkern asked the W'est F’r soldiers, we answered, me and Jim, He havin’ his opinyin uv me, ’N d I havin’ my opinyin uv him ! But down in Tennessee one night Ther was sound uv firin’ ou’ away, ’N d the Ser eant allowed there’d be a fi ht \Vith thefiohnnie Reds some time nex’ ay: ’Nd I wuz thinkin’ nv Lizzie ’nd home, Jim stood afore me, long ’nd slim ; He havin’ his opinyin uv me, ’Nd I havin my opinyin nv him ! Seemed like we knew there wuz goin’ to be Serious trouble f’r me and him ; Us two scbuck hands, did Jim ’nd me, But never a word from me or Jim ! Hefwent his way ’nd I went mine, ’N d into the battle roar went we, Illaviu’ my opinyin uv Jim, ’N d be havin’ his opinyin uv me. Jim never come back from the war again. But I hain’t forgot that last, last night, When waitin’ f’r orders, uz two men Made up and schuck hands, afore the fight ; ’Nd after all it’s soothin’ to know That here I be ’nd yonder’s Jim ; He havin’ his opinyin uv me. ’Nd I havin’ my opinyin uv him ! JAMES ercous Run: The Advancein Diamonds. The extraordinary rise in the price of dia- mondsâ€"in many cases over 50 per ccnt,â€"â€"is exciting considerable attention. Both at Antwerp and Amsterdam several thousand cutters are out of work, as most of the mer- chants firmly decline any deahngs at the present rohibitive rate. The truth is that a power 111 syndicate has obtained, till May 15, an exclusive right over all the stones which may be found in South Africa, and its members are consequently able to regulate the prices at will. Although this daring op- eration has been carried out under the aegis of New Court, the principal names which figure in the combination are those of Messrs. Benato, Donckers ieler, Porges, and Shwa- bachcr. It is dou tful whether any consid- erable pecuniary advanta e will accrue from the transaction, for the ( iamond syndicate already finds itself overladen with merchan- dise which it is utterly unable to dispose of. A few days ago it was forced to make sales at a sacrifice, so that, if the buyers maintain their present attitude, the much- coveted stones will soon be a rain procurable at the normal rate. One of t 1e indirect con- sequences of the syndicate has been a pro. portionate rise in the price of pearls, rubies, and emeralds. Under these circumstances, the outside public will do well to imitate the judicious reserve of the professional dealer. Refuse to Shave Widows’ Heads. The agitation among the barbers of Bomâ€" bay islikely to result in their refusal to shave widows’ heads. Of course, those who are acquainted with native views in India will recognize that this intimation is not so com- ical as it sounds, but has a very serious meaning and reflects great credit on the native barber. It is a relic of a system of cruel treatment of native widows that they should have their hair shorn off at the mo- ment of their affliction. Native journals have recently been denouncing the cruel racticc in spite of the opposition of the Brahmins, who have themselves threatened to cut the hair of the widows if the harbors refuse. This, however, it is said the Brah- mins could not do without losing caste. The revolt in Bombay is due to the excess- ive cruelty practiced toward widows there. Up country, as s an Indian contemporary, the practice of shaving the widow’s headisnot so persistently enforced as in Bombay. The hair is allowed to grow again, and the widow is only expected to submit to a renewal of the unwelcome o ration when she visits a shrine of specie. sanctity. In Bombay widows are shaved regularly once a week, and this causes them deep distress. German Drummers and English. We are continually hearing of German commercial travelers in neutral countries cutting out representatives of English houses, or doing business simply because English houses have no re resenfatives able to speak the language an: introduce their goods. But a letter to a German newspaper dcplorcs the inaction of German financiers, compared with the energy of English houses. It appears Baring Brothers & Co. of London, had arrived at Bucnos Ayres last January on what the correspondent calls an “informations jour- niy'Lâ€"one of those round trips which Eng- li men of position are credited with under. taking just to make themselves acquainted with commercial men and manners abroad. A dinner was given, of' course and toasts were drunk to the continual prosperity of the city of Buenos A 'res. Beyond that no- thing is said, but the esson set by this corre- spondent, in his anxiety to keep licrmnn merchants and financers up to the mark, is that Berlin and Frankfort should also send representatives of their best firms to South America, and have dinners given them there. that Mr. John Baring, member of the firm of . Luau-“Biting Stanley's Return to England~The German Kaiser Still Busyâ€"England and the United States Portugal for a Settlement of the Delsgoa Bay Adairâ€" The Turh'ah Debt. Henry M. Stanley has returned to Eng- land after his long absence in the " Dark Continent.” He reached Dover the other afternoon by a special steamer which had been placed at his disposal by the King of the Belgians. Dover seemed to expect something out of the common and every citizen who was able to do so wended his way, toward the pier in the hope that something would come to a head there. Thousands were there, and they stood for more than an hour looking at the surroundings with which they were on the most intimate terms and talking about the curious career of the man of whom they were waiting so patiently to catch a glimpse. There were more flags than usual on the pier, and they were thrown to the breeze in honor of Stanley. As the vessel was being berthed alongside the pier very one in the thousands on shore was gazing with might and main at the little party of men on the upper deck. “there istt-anley 2" was an exclamation heard on all si es. WELCOME, ’smxnsr 1 Just before the landingstnge was rcachd a broad smile was observed on the handsome face of Captain Nelson. He smiled because, on seeing the assemble. e ashore, Stanley bud dived under cover. ‘rom his shelter the African explorer was compelled to come forth to meet the Mayor of Dover, who presented an address of welcome. There was a far larger crowd in London to welcome Stanley than there had been at Dover ; but as the police arrangements \vcrc perfect he suffered no inconvenience. The moment he appeared on the platform he was cheered, and cheered as he took his scat injthe open curl-age of Lady Burdcttc-Coutts, and he felt constrained to stand up and bow many times to show his appreciation of the splendid welcome given to him. He drove from the station, accompanied by Lady Burdette-Coutts and Mr. Burdette- Coutts and met with something very much like an ovation from the immense crowd that filled every thoroughfare in the vicinity of the Victoria station. The Kaiser did plenty of work last week, on sea and land. Frenchmen have been gnashing their teeth over the brutal disâ€" regard of their feelings involved in his visit to Alsace, but the people of that conquered province seemed pleased enough to see the German Emperor, and the flouts and gibes of the French press will not serve to hide the fact that Strasburg, sn posed to lie writhing beneath the iron hce of the invad- er, was splendidly decorated and illuminated in his honor, and the enthusiasm of . the crowds could not have been surpassed even in Berlin. Something has evidently ha pened at the Russian court. The Czar and iis family had settled down comfortably at Gatohina with the intention of staying amonth, when early last week telegraphic orders were received to repair the St. I etersburg palace for their reception, and next day the entire court re- turned unexpectedly to the capital. The censor sent out a para raph which the news- papers, of course, pub ished, saying that the change was due to cold and rainy weather ; but from a climatic point of view St. Peters- burg just now is not more favored than Gatehina. The United States and the British govern- ment have made an imperative demand that the Delagoa railway question should be settled by arbitration. The United States and British Ministers had a long interview last week with the Foreign Minister, who has the affair under careful consideration. In consequence of thc Caissc of the public debt having accepted the scheme for the conversion of the debt without awaiting the presence of the German delegate, who was absent from Constantinople at the time of acceptance, tbc dclc atc has now raised objections to the finn issue of the conversion bonds despite the fact that the Sultan has issued an iradc sanctioning the scheme. The matter now rests with the German syndicate, which is negotiating conversion. __â€"_.___._â€" Aphorisms. “’hen thou art obliged to speak, be sure to speak the truth ; for equivocation is half way to 1 ing, and lyin is the whole way to eternal estrnction.â€"-[ Villiam l’cnn. Life is a quarry, out of which we are to mold and chisel and complete a character.â€"-â€" [Goethe There is nothing like a fixed, steady aim, with an honorablc purpose. It dignifics the nature and insures sucmss.â€"[Stopford Brooke. Kind words produce their own image in men's souls, and a lwautiful image it is. They soothe and comfort the bearer. They make him ashamed of his unkind feelings. \Ve have not yet begun to use them in such abundance as they should be uscd.â€"-{l’ascal. Enthusiasm is the genius of sincerity, and truth accomplishes no victories without it. - [Bulwer-Lytton. He who is truly at peace never suspects others. But he who is ill at ease and dia- contented is disturbed by various suspicions. -â€"['l‘homas a-Kempis. With finnness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us stand by our duty [fearlessly and effectively.«(Abraham Lin- coin. j Hasty words often ranklc the wound which injury gives ; but soft words assuage ,it, for iving cures it and forgetting takes away t e scanâ€"{Tuppen ' Sick “'omanâ€""I'm so apprehensive, dear doctor, about bcin buried alive." Doctor-- "You shan’t be if can prevent it." Depende on the Result. Passer-by (to Tommy, who has just been ;fightin ).-â€"“Wouldn't our father whip lyou if do knew ou had ien fighting 2" j 'l‘ommy.-â€"“ 'ell. that depends. If the other boy whip ed me, pop would whip me . too ; but in he ed the other boy, pop would just say. ‘I wouldn't fight, ifI were you, . Tommy.’ "